Tomes for the Shadow
by Suzunomiko
Summary: Dear GOD, don't ask! T.T


(Dear GOD, don't ask. T.T)

Deep within the dark and foreboding recesses of the ominous and impressively gothic Citadel in the Land of the Black Sand, a shadow lurks. One that, by all accounts, really shouldn't be there among the other mischievous shadows lurking around with equally murderous intent. A Mamluk passes this shadow, and even though it is dead and is not capable of feeling cold, it shivers. Turning to investigate the cause of this very unusual and confusing occurrence it sees nothing, and goes along it's way... totally oblivious to the mentally twisted and horrible creature it was allowing to run loose in it's Master's home.

Meanwhile, up in the throne room where the newest dark prodigy usually sat slumped in his elaborately decorated and gloriously upholstered royal chair, Xerxes slept peacefully on a cushion on the floor near to the throne itself. He made no noise as he slept, and was almost rather cute... a fin twitching every now and then in a dream. 

In the Tower Bedroom slumbered Mozenrath, a bottle formerly filled with a powerful dreamless sleep potion hung just barely held in the hand that dangled over the edge of his divan. The Gauntlet was off, laid aside for the night. It glowed on it's own, angry at being ignored so by it's slave, but the potion was a powerful one. Mozenrath didn't even feel the pull or the pain caused by the enchanted item's anger and resentment at such neglectful treatment.

The bottle fell, slipping through the bone fingers and made a dull thudding sound as it hit the carpeted floor, causing a few of the shadows hovering around the young man's form to back off a bit in fear that he had woken. He slept on though, and they resumed their looming over him, oblivious to the fact that he was unable to feel their ghostly presence all around.

A young man on a flying carpet hovered outside the window a moment, then left when he had been sufficiently assured his enemy wasn't plotting anything particularly deadly at the moment.

The dark sand swirled in the wind in the dead city below, not as active as it usually was due to it's master sleeping without so much as even an unconscious thought. The Mamluks even, seemed lethargic... or more so than usual. No orders, no reason to patrol so thoroughly as they usually did.

Besides, the magic sensing lanterns in the streets below would alert them to any intruders the moment they arrived, and no human could possibly be a threat to them... and the only one that actually could wasn't likely to attack while the master was asleep. He did have his heroic morals, after all. And so the entire Land of the Black Sand was sleepy and slow, and it would be until the potion wore off and it's master woke.

The shadow was very pleased with this. The Mamluks were not likely to catch it at the moment, nor was Mozenrath a threat right now. It would have all the time in the world it needed to fulfill it's task and go home in time for dinner. Grinning, the outline moved with all the grace and silence as the ghosts around it, heading straight for the place it had been DYING to get to.

Mozenrath's Library.

Throughout the night (or was it day?) the shadow crept around the rooms and tunnels of shelves that made up the extensive library. It took what it wanted, and put back what it didn't... but never back where it was supposed to be. Almost twelve hours later, when the lands around the great Citadel awoke in tune to it's master, the shadow had gathered all the necessary items and was calmly sitting at Mozenrath's own desk... waiting for him to arrive.

And arrive he did. It took no more than a fraction of a second after fully waking for the Wizard to sense that something was terribly amiss in his home. The walls themselves were vibrant with feeling, reacting to the... oddly HAPPY atmosphere this foreboding shadow had brought in. No demon was this happy unless it was up to no good, and if Mozenrath hadn't summoned or ordered it to happen it definitely didn't belong. Dressing quickly, the young wizard made his way around his Citadel in record time, searching for the offending presence. He soon located it and flashed himself to his library, gasping and cringing when a frighteningly familiar glowing pair of eyes met his.

"Hello, Mozenrath." came a silken yet sharp feminine voice. "I do hope I didn't... disturb you."

"N-not at all..." he stammered, then quickly cleared his throat and composed himself.

It would not do him well to let this creature know he feared it.

Ignoring the Mamluk remains all around his desk he approached very carefully, so as not to seem too bold to the shadow. As he came near he saw a glittering of teeth as it smiled at him... no... smirked at him. He took a deep breath and stopped near the edge of the desktop, brushing his hair back with his flesh hand in the process.

"To what do I owe this unexpected, though most welcome visit?" Mozenrath asked cautiously.

There was a short laugh that nearly made the pale man jump out of his skin right there. "Why, Mozenrath. I thought you'd never ask." she smiled. "You see, I have need for a bit of... inspiration lately. My works have become... unsatisfactory to me and I've taken the liberty of selecting a few of your tomes that would be of great use to me. Since many of these are charmed and would disintegrate upon me taking them outside the Citadel without your permission, I graciously waited until you woke to come and allow me to have them for a while."

Mozenrath sputtered indignantly for a moment, then stopped and grinned. "So, what do I get out of this?"

"Hmmm..." came a thoughtful sigh. "You will allow me to take these books, or I will open this bottle on your precious dark arts Library." A small feminine hand holds out a bottle that appears to be for cooking oil, stopped with a cork. It's apparently empty.

"Che. Why should that scare me? I see nothing in that bottle." Mozenrath scoffed.

The laugh came again. "Oh, dear Mozenrath. You of all people should know that NOTHING is more dangerous than something you are unable to see."

"But if you're really so skeptical, I could show you what they do..." she drawled, pulling absently at the stopper.

"No!" He shouted quickly, then bit his lip and calmed his voice. "Perhaps if you were to tell me exactly what the bottle contained I would be more apt to grant your request?"

She smiled devilishly, then set the bottle on the desktop, swirling her little finger around the stopper. "This bottle contains the most destructive creature known to literature. I brought them all the way from my own world just for you, Mozenrath, because I could tell that only someone like you would be able to fully appreciate the extent of damage they can do."

"And... what might they be?"

"Typo Demons."

"Typo Demons? I've never heard of such creatures."

"Of course not. I brought them from MY world, remember? They frequent computer systems and attack word documents and read-only files... as well as the keyboard itself as the user is typing. Their sole purpose in existing is to latch onto letters and symbols and switch them around so badly that no amount of decoding or deciphering will help regain the garbled information."

Mozenrath blanches, giving his already pale skin a sickly look.

"I would really hate to do it to you... since you ARE my favorite after all. But I guess it can't be helped if you're going to be selfish and keep all of these wonderful literary treasures all to yourself. They LOVE books, you know. Sometimes they jumble the letters and symbols so much that it looks like the ink is literally bleeding right off the paper..."

"Take them. Take as many as you want, just don't open that bottle!" he begged, backing away purposefully.

"Excellent!"

Mozenrath fled to a far corner when she hopped off his chair and bounded toward the door cheerfully, swinging a basket with several of his most valuable books in it from the crook of her arm.

"Bye, Mozenrath! I'll bring them back soon!"

And with that she skipped away, humming a happy, yet amazingly disturbing tune.

Mozenrath let out the breath he'd been holding. "Bye, Suzu."

Out in the city giggling can be heard, as Suzu no Miko pops the cork on her bottle and only air comes out. "Typo Demons... HAH!"

(Review, or I shall actually create the nasty little buggers and send them after YOU! BWAHAHAHAHAHA!

And now that I have some inspiration material, maybe I can write now.) 


End file.
